


Things Unsaid

by scratchienails



Category: Kamen Rider, Kamen Rider Kabuto
Genre: Denial, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Tendou is a Jerk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scratchienails/pseuds/scratchienails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble series. Ten times they didn't say "I love you", and everything else that went without saying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. shards on the floor

Most days, it was funny how even after years of being a waiter and months of experience on a battlefield, he was still so clumsy.

Today, it wasn’t funny at all, because Tendou’s grandmother’s most cherished dish was shattered on the floor, in a million pieces that would be impossible to ever fix.

Arata stared at the floor in shock and a little bit of horror, desperately wishing that he could will the pieces back together. Wishing that he hadn’t touched the dish at all, that he had left it alone, wishing that he had reacted quickly enough to catch it. That he hadn't come by that day, that he had done  _anything_ else instead. 

The longer he looked, the more his mouth dried and his throat closed.

Tendou was going to murder him.

For a single moment, he considered his options. He could sweep up the pieces as fast he could, wrap them in a bag, and pretend he’d never been here. He could just run. He could get Tadokoro to fake his death, change his name, and move to the countryside somewhere.

His stomach dropped. As if any of that would work.

“What was that noise?” Tendou’s voice called from the hall, and Arata snapped his head up as he heard the soft padding of footsteps making their way to the kitchen. He opened his mouth to call back, balked, and snapped it shut again. His voice stuck in his throat like he was choking on raw vegetables.

Tendou came into the kitchen, eyebrows raised, and then stopped. His eyes traced over the mess of porcelain on the floor, the scattered shards of blue and white, before they fell on Arata, standing pale and alone in the center of the destruction.

His lips tightened, and he took a sharp breath.

Arata lurched to his knees like a beggar before a king, and began to gather the pieces, the words suddenly pouring out in a rush, “Oh god, Tendou, I’m so, so sorry—I didn’t mean to—!“ He snatched up each shard as quickly as he could, not daring to look up and see the anger, the disappointment, the frustration, or what other kind of face Tendou would be making, piling them in his hand with shaking fingers. “I shouldn’t have—I’m an idiot I’m so sorry—“

He barely heard the brush of socked feet against the tiled floor with his panicked babbling filling the air, but the stern touch of a hand falling on his shoulder was something he couldn’t ignore. He froze under it, hating everything, hating himself, hating porcelain for being so fragile.

“Stop that. Get up.” Tendou said. His voice was firm but not hard, the voice he used when he thought Arata was being foolish and too emotional. “You’re going to cut yourself,” Tendou added, and that made Arata dare to look back up, peering through his own irate bangs. Tendou looked down on him, eyebrows raised expectantly, a faintly amused smile curling at his lips.

Arata stood, cradling the gathered pieces, and something in his stomach eased.

“Sorry,” he said, firmer and more earnestly this time, looking Tendou right in the eyes as he offered up the pieces he gathered. Tendou’s smiled faded as he took them, and there was something sharp in his gaze. But he didn’t seem angry, or even frustrated. Arata allowed his shoulders to loosen.

“Better.” Tendou said, before glancing at the floor. “Get the vacuum cleaner. I don’t want Juka stepping on anything.” Arata gave a quick nod and was all too glad to flee the scene, if only for a moment.

As he came back with it, he paused in the entryway. Tendou was stooped over, carefully selecting the largest shards off the floor and placing them into the pile sitting on a piece of paper towel on the counter. He moved slowly and methodically, a sharp, forlorn figure that gently cradled each little remnant.

Guilt weighed heavy in Arata’s gut.

“I’ve got the vacuum,” he called out, stating the obvious to warn Tendou that he was intruding on this almost vulnerable moment.

“Then plug it in.”

The reply wasn’t particularly harsh, for Tendou at least, or reprimanding, but still Arata winced. It left no room for a response, for further discussion, but he knew he couldn’t let this lie. He didn’t make excuses, didn’t deny the blame, and instead apologized with his whole heart. “I really am sorry. I know that dish was an heirloom from your Grandmother.”

For a moment, Tendou didn’t respond, face turned away as he looked down on the tower of ivory on the counter. Arata shifted closer, despite himself, and realized Tendou was smiling, his eyes catching the bright light of the kitchen lamps.

“Grandmother once said, the greatest heirloom is not material, but rather a legacy of character,” Tendou said, as if that explained everything, and Arata supposed it really did.

One of Tendou’s grandmother’s precious dishes had been lost, but she had left Tendou far more than just a couple brittle plates.

“So…you’re not going to kill me?”

“A slab of fired clay is hardly worth murdering my partner over.” Letting out a breath, Arata grinned and relaxed. Tendou narrowed his eyes, and said, “but you will never step in the kitchen ever again.”

That was fair enough.


	2. rows between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scene from episode 24. Tendou was incredibly emotional, by Tendou standards, that episode.

“I’m going to Shibuya.” Kagami said, and Souji took a frustrated breath. He hadn’t wanted to hear that.

“You cannot. You must never go there.” Souji ordered. His voice sounded off, too breathless, a hint too desperate to be a proper command. Undisciplined.

“You’re saying that too?” Kagami rushed forward, closing the distance between them, before shuddering to an uncertain stop. Souji stared him right in the face, unwilling to explain.

Kagami filled in the gaps himself. “So it’s true then? Did you…did you kill Hiyori’s parents?”

_No. No. No._ Souji could remember it clearly: the monsters wearing his parents’ faces, dying in the rubble. A little voice calling him back, pleading.

Kagami had no place putting forth that accusation, _Hiyori’s_ accusation, not here, not now. Souji swallowed the hot rush of anger and disappointment. Kagami didn’t really believe that, he was just asking, trying to confirm that it _wasn’t true._

But god, Souji had wanted to, wanted to wrap his hands around their throats and murder them like they did his family. And maybe that was what really mattered. Maybe the intention and the desire to kill was a sin in and of itself.

Souji turned away.

“I’ll say it one more time.” A warning. “Don’t go to Shibuya.”

Kagami was probably sick of being told what to do. But Souji didn’t care what Kagami was sick of, because Souji only had control of a handful of pieces in this game. And that was unacceptable. If Kagami wouldn’t be controlled, wouldn’t sit still and quiet in the square of the board Souji had assigned him too, then he was an enemy piece and enemy pieces must be destroyed.

This was all for Hiyori, after all.

“No! Hiyori’s suffering because she can’t remember clearly! She can’t move past this until she knows the truth!” Kagami snarled, as if he knew what Hiyori needed. As if he could understand.

As if Hiyori herself knew what she needed.

Why did they both have to make this so damn difficult? Why couldn’t they just return to the Bistro and _wait_ for Souji to make this right?

He had turned back to Kagami without realizing it. His blood felt too hot in his veins.

“If you insist on going—“ Souji paused. The words he wanted to say next seemed too heavy to say, too painful to think. Choking them out was harder than he thought possible, when they should have been easy. He gathered his determination, his fury, his righteousness, and continued. “Then I will have no choice but to stop you.”

His voice was harsh, vicious. He was threatening Kagami. It felt wrong—this wasn’t how he wanted things to go. Because Tendou Souji didn’t make threats he couldn’t back.

But it wouldn’t come to that. With just words, he could make Kagami back down. If directly threatening violence didn’t work, then emotional manipulation would work just as well.

“What?” Kagami pushed closer, anger and indignation burning in the back of his eyes, in the resentment painted across his face. The Kagami he first met couldn’t burn with such cold fury. It shouldn’t have been so damn attractive. “Do you really think you could beat me so easily?” The challenge was dealt in a quiet, unyielding voice. Souji took a breath. His heart was beating too fast.

At any other time, he would be pleased to hear Kagami so confident, to see his—partner, companion, _what are we—_ acquaintance standing so firm. This was the Kagami he had wanted to see, had wanted to build, only to now find it snarling right back at him.

Souji couldn’t even resent it. He couldn’t even argue that it wasn’t any of Kagami’s business, because that wasn’t true and they both knew it.

He could only stare right at Kagami, counting every little trait that had drawn him to this man and brought them here.

It was the same vibrant exuberance of Juka bounding down the stairs, and the same quiet insecurity of Hiyori’s tentative steps down the street. There was the determination and strength of spirit, the irrepressible refusal to be broken, burning in Kagami’s eyes that Souji once saw sparking endlessly in his grandmother.

It would be simple, easy, to love this vivacious, lively man, if Souji could just keep him somewhere safe. Some place Souji could watch over him, supervise, make sure he wasn’t going to burn himself right out with his own tenacious spirit.

But Kagami wasn’t Juka, safe in the house and in their quiet, routine daily life, nor was he Hiyori, carefully removed from the conflict in the Bistro’s busy walls. (And even she was struggling more every day, eyes shifting and fingers restless.)

It would be easy to love Kagami, if he would just behave the way Souji wanted him to. But that was the trouble with people; that they were independent units free to make their own bad decisions. It made them troublesome and inconvenient. And Souji didn’t put up with anything that was _troublesome and inconvenient_. His sisters he could forgive, because they came first: the rest of the world was just an inconvenience to his service of them.

And yet, Souji’s connection with Kagami Arata had nothing to do with his sisters. Maybe that was what made it so complicated.

It would be easy, to love this stupid, wild, goofy man, if Souji could just let himself.

_When people love others, they grow weaker. But it’s not anything to be ashamed of, Souji. True weakness lies elsewhere._

Grandmother had spoken those words, and Souji had taken them in and locked them into his heart and mind like he did with all the others, but now he felt that he never properly comprehended them. Loving his family, his precious little sisters, it wasn’t a choice. How could he not love then with all his being?

But this, this was different: this was a weakness he could choose.

She never told him how terrifying that choice was.

So Souji forced his feelings down.

He couldn’t afford another weakness, no matter what his Grandmother said. This was different.

Rationally, Souji switched tactics. “If you want Hiyori to be happy, do as I say.” If Kagami wouldn’t yield to Souji directly, if Kagami wanted to plant himself and stand against everything for Hiyori’s sake, Souji could use that. No matter how much confidence Kagami had gained, he was still the same insecure, downtrodden dog. He would doubt himself before he would doubt Souji.

Souji knew what was best, for all three of them. And he wasn’t afraid to play the underhanded cards.

As expected, Kagami’s hard expression shuddered. He backed down, breaking eye contact, uncertain and caught off-guard.

Souji knew he had won, but it didn’t feel like a victory, not as he watched Kagami turn away and retreat.

Somehow, he only felt disappointed in himself. He ignored that feeling too.

It would be so easy to call Kagami back, to make this right, to give in to what they both wanted. It would be easy to fall in love.

Souji had never been one to take the easy route.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the word doc i write these in is titled 'tendou's an ASS'.


End file.
